Anyone who had briefly interacted with Mo Jia tended to give her the same assessment—cool and aloof, distant and indifferent, like an ice crystal that never melted atop a snowy mountain, or a lone wolf licking her wounds deep in the forest.
And if one were to ask whether there had ever been a moment in her life when she came closest to the image of a fragile young girl, it was probably now.
But honestly, anyone would become as weak, helpless, and panicked as she was if a cold, slimy tentacle crawled into their clothes and slid across their skin. It was like having a cockroach crawl up one's trouser leg.
After falling to the ground and flailing a few times, Mo Jia, her eyes brimming with frightened tears, forced back the urge to scream. A fiercer surge of humiliation and resolve ignited within her. She abruptly drew her dagger, intending to viciously stab the tentacle beneath her clothes—better to perish together than be toyed with by this disgusting thing!
But just then, a cold, smooth, utterly emotionless voice suddenly rang out in her mind. "Wait. Don't panic yet."
Who was it?
Mo Jia's heart jolted violently, but her downward thrust did not slow in the slightest. Fear of the unknown only made her move faster!
Noticing this, the tentacle beneath her clothes suddenly exerted force, tightening like an invisible rope. Cold, slimy tendrils wrapped around her wrists, ankles, and even cinched her waist with lightning speed before abruptly pulling tight! The immense strength rendered her unable to move at all, pinning her firmly in place. Only her chest heaved violently.
"I am an Evil God. If you do not want to die here, obediently cooperate and do as I say," the voice said. There was no threat in